


Occhiolism

by atomiccourier



Series: Atom I.C. Courier [10]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomiccourier/pseuds/atomiccourier
Summary: The courier reflects on his current condition and why it should be considered a mistake.
A spiritual successor to Chrysalism





	

**Author's Note:**

> I HIGHLY suggest you read or re-read Chrysalism before reading this. It's basically a distorted mirroring.
> 
> It's. Also something I wrote. two months or more ago but forgot to publish. Oops.

#### Occhiolism - n. the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn’t possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

 

* * *

 

You left the womb about three months ago.   
  
Here, in the Commonwealth, in Goodneighbor, in a Hotel, curled into moth-bitten sheets, is you.   
  
Here, miles and miles and miles away from your point of origin, your creations, your creators, your family, your loves, is you.   
  
Here, you listen to rain fall against the roof, and the windows, and the streets occupied by people who don't care about you. Not really. Not in the way you want. Not in the way you can use. Not in the way that protects you.   
  
You're scared.   
  
The rain reminds you vaguely of times past. You can almost never remember specifics, but you're used to that, so you blink up at the lazily rotating ceiling fan instead of worrying.   
  
The fan had been broken when you entered. In a fit of insomnia, anxiety, and homesickness, you fixed it. You don't even need it right now. The commonwealth is uncomfortably cool and damp, even on it's warmest days.   
  
Sometimes you can almost fall asleep basking in the sun somewhere.   
  
Almost. This place doesn't yet understand that community and anarchy can coexist peacefully. You'd be able to feel safe doing so in the Mojave.   
  
You don't belong here.   
  
The rain seems to scream this at you, while it waters the Commonwealth's native fauna and ensures the people don't go thirsty another day.   
  
It helps them. It solves their problems. They love it fundamentally for existing.   
  
Not like Mojave rain. Not like Mojave thunderstorms. Not like Mojave Couriers.   
  
They don't care about you in the way that protects you.   
  
You haven't naturally slipped your way into their organizations. You haven't gradually cultivated their public's trust in you. You haven't made their enemy armies fear your name as a force of nature rather than a man.   
  
Your niche does not exist here.    
  
Instead, you just kind of float around. Talking to settlers, squashing bloatflies, fixing ceiling fans.   
  
Nothing productive. No way to consume the emptiness this place holds. Nothing to do but stare at it hungrily. Drooling.   
  
The rain screeches at you. It brings life. It fills the holes. It destroys your food supply. It is nothing like your Mother Thunderstorm of the Mojave.   
  
Thunder cracks in the distance. You hug yourself.   
  
Why are you even here again?   
  
You left the womb about three months ago.   
  
You regret it.

 

* * *

 

#### ambedo - n _._ a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me abt any glaring or not so glaring errors so i can fix them. Also, if you liked it. It'll inspire me to write more.


End file.
